


Is whispered in your ear

by Monoi



Series: A Song Yet To Be Sung [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monoi/pseuds/Monoi
Summary: Aemon Targaryen was sitting next to his mother Daenerys when he saw for the first time Eddard Snow, the illegitimate son of his father. Aemon was almost four years old, and his big, huge violet eyes peered in wonder at that one year child, with fair skin, who was watching him and his mother in silence, with a frown over his little face.His father, the King of the North, had just returned to Dragonstone after spending several months in the North to fight against those ice monsters that threatened the living world.





	Is whispered in your ear

Warning: This story is part of the series “The song yet to be sung” because it tells the childhood of Jon and Arya’s children. It is focused on the circumstances that led to the arrival of little Ned, the bastard son of Jon Snow, at Dragonstjone and on the reactions of ordinary people and of Queen Daenerys, Jon's wife.  
The story happens before the events described in “Daffodil”, and after those narrated in my other fic “The Battle of Evermore”. It can be read alone, but undoubtedly many of the questions and points not clarified appear clearer if you read my other fics.  
This story is part of the Jonrya tag, keep it in mind. If you do not appreciate this ship, it is probably not the place for you.  
\---  
Aemon Targaryen was sitting next to his mother Daenerys when he saw for the first time Eddard Snow, the illegitimate son of his father. Aemon was almost four years old, and his big, huge violet eyes peered in wonder at that one year child, with fair skin, who was watching him and his mother in silence, with a frown over his little face.  
His father, the King of the North, had just returned to Dragonstone after spending several months in the North to fight against those ice monsters that threatened the living world. Despite he was only four years old, Aemon knew the importance that had the troops at his father's command, headquartered in Moat Cailinn area, defending what remained of Westeros.  
Aemon knew that his father was standing up there for most of the time. Until some time ago, behind the Neck there was the kingdom of the North, of which his father was king. Then, the undead had arrived, they had passed the barrier on the back of a dragon spitting ice, and they were got up to Winterfell and beyond, forcing his family and his people to flee.  
Uncle Brandon Stark, his father’s brother, could not walk and used to move with the help of a chair with wheels. Not that he had much need it, Aemon thought to himself, since most of the time Brandon Stark was silent, his face ashen, and his blue eyes stared off a point in the air. He spoke rarely, but when he opened his mouth everyone listened to him. Aemon feared him a little.  
The last time Aemon saw him, a few months before, uncle Brandon’s gaze rested on him. Aemon had chills, her father had interrupted the speech he was doing, and his mother had been holding his breath. They were inside Moat Cailinn at the time.  
Brandon Stark had spent several long minutes with his eyes fixed on the purple eyes of his nephew.  
“The children are in danger up here. He is too close to them. He hears them. He wants them.”  
“Children? What do you mean? All the children here or just Aemon Targaryen?” Tyrion Lannister asked, exchanging a worried look with Aemon’s mother and father, while Missandei instinctively embraced the child closely.  
“He wants all those who have blood Stark in their veins.”  
“So you're in danger too, Lord Stark.” Ser Jorah Mormont tried to say, but uncle Brandon did not listen, as he had not heard even Tyrion Lannister, and continued: “Take them away, Jon. In a place surrounded by water, so that the undead can not get to take them”.  
“Dragonstone” Ser Davos proposed immediately, practical as always.  
“But the Night King can fly...” suggested Missandei.  
His mother stood up “Yes, he can fly, but Drogon would never let him get close to Aemon.” she concluded resolute.  
“But Daenerys ...” Tyrion interrupted her “If Drogon will be in Dragonstone, how we will defend ourselves from the attacks of the Night King?”  
“Rhaegal will remain here.” she answered him, “with Jon. I'll bring Aemon as far as possible from that devil of ice. We should have done it a long time ago, when we escaped from Winterfell.”  
Brandon Stark spoke again: “You have to bring there another one”.  
Everyone present looked puzzled. What other child with the blood Stark was in Westeros? Sansa Stark was safe in the Eyrie, and they had not got any news of a pregnancy. That was the first time that Aemon had heard of another Stark child.  
His father, speechless, had taken a step toward Uncle Brandon, amazement painted on his face.  
“She called him Eddard” uncle Brandon said, for the first time looking in his father's eyes. Aemon thought that the almost expressionless eyes of his uncle had shown a slight hint of an expression, perhaps affection, when he pronounced that name. His father, the King of the North, was totally stunned.  
“Bring them away, Jon.” He had heard before Missandei’s arms had led him away from the room. Since then, Aemon had not heard any mention of that child. Aemon was in Dragonstone from months, with his mother, Missandei and Ser Jorah, when he was opposite to little Eddard Snow, who was serious for such a young child, Missandei commented with a smile. Aemon agreed with her.  
He was a beautiful child, Eddard Snow, the silvery skin resembling that of Daenerys, his hair with the same color of Uncle Brandon’s, and his gray eyes were the same as those of his father. Everything about this child was familiar to Aemon, even the serious and almost desolate expression that was identical to the one carved on the King of the North face, Jon Snow.  
Aemon ran to his father, who knelt in front of him, with little Eddard still in his arms. The King smiled. Missandei always said that only Aemon was able to make him smile. Perhaps, he could make smile even that child, Aemon thought.  
“He is Ned,” his father said, “and he is your brother.” Aemon smiled at the little one, watching him frowning.  
“Hello Ned.” He said, politely. The child did not answer.  
“He still doesn’t know how to speak, he’s too small. It will be one of your responsibilities as a big brother, teaching him to speak, to walk, to run and play...”  
“Can I teach him to fly with Drogon, too?”  
His mother coughed.  
“No Aemon, I don’t think Ned could fly with dragons. He is not a Targaryen, like you.”  
Aemon thought about it a bit. “But even you're not a Targaryen, father, yet you fly with Rhaegal.”  
His father blinked, startled.  
“We do not know why, my sun and stars, but your father is been able to fly with dragons though it is not a Targaryen. But I doubt that little Eddard could do it.” his mother said.  
“Why he is not a Targaryen, even if he's my brother?”  
“Because his mother is not a Targaryen.”  
“And then who is his mother?” the boy asked, looking his father — who kept his eyes on Ned’s redhead- and his mother -who stared with angry his father's face-.  
“Nobody knows, my sun and stars” his mother finally answered, caressing his hair.  
“Nobody? It’s impossible! Dad, you know who is Ned's mother, don’t you?”  
But this time, the king gave him no answer. Only a few years later Aemon Targaryen would know the truth. After that fateful meeting, his father had risen again riding on Rhaegal and returned to Moat Cailinn, to defend humans from the attacks of undead.  
The days of Aemon proceeded as usual: for most of the time he was together with Missandei and with his mother, when possible. He rarely met his brother, who spent the time with his nurse, a girl dressed as a man in leather clothes that all servants of Dragonstone avoided “because she is a woman-lizard, and they cannot be trusted.” Missandei, however, was not of the same opinion, and the Naath girl was not afraid to approach Ned’s nanny, so sometimes the two brothers ended up playing together.  
Unbeknownst to Aemon, all people in Dragonstone (but also in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms) wondered who was Ned's mother. The jokes abounded.  
Like father, like son, the men in the stables said. Jon Snow was Lord Eddard Stark's bastard. He had been raised with the legitimate children of the Stark house.  
Evidently, the maids in the rooms of the fortress murmured, being a bastard had not prevented him from becoming king. Probably he did not give too much importance to the fact of having given birth to a child out of wedlock. And for him it was quite normal that his bastard grow along with his legitimate children.  
The women in the kitchen reminded that the oddities were not over. The king of the North and the Queen of the Dragons tied the knot in front of Seven, but Aemon had received his mother's name. “Better be a Targaryen that a Snow” the young kitchen maid muttered while she was cleaning the vegetables for dinner.  
“The bastard has red hair,” the old cook said.  
“Maybe he is the son of a wildling. There are many of them with red hair.” The kitchen maid said with contempt, treading the word “wildling”.  
“And if he is the son of the witch? The one that was here with King Stannis?” one of the waitresses suggested with a kind of terror.  
“I've never seen her. Let's hope she’s not his mother!” the kitchen maid cried again. “It’s better be the son of a wildling!”  
“He doesn’t look like her. At all. His hair had a different shade of red” another fatigue woman assured.  
“Of course...” the old cook began “I remember the Targaryens. The Queen’s brothers. Prince Rhaegar was beautiful, but Viserys, I saw him as a child, was really nice.”  
Someone looked up, someone stopped talking, all continuing their work.  
“And what about him?” the kitchen maid teased.  
“I could be wrong, but every day that passes, the bastard seems more a Targaryen than a Stark.”  
The other women raised their eyebrows. The old cook went on: “And I will tell you more... Prince Aemon...”  
“What?” the kitchen maid urged. Of course the old cook knew how to keep the attention.  
“Apart his violet eyes, he has nothing of the Targaryen. Prince Aemon is a Stark through and through. The bastard however, has the face of a Targaryen.”  
“How is that possible?” One of the waitresses asked in wonder.  
“I don’t know, I only say what my eyes see. Maybe the bastard is the son of some other Targaryen.”  
“Or perhaps you are becoming blind” the kitchen maid replied.  
“Nah, for me, he is the son of a wildling.” one of the waitresses began.  
“He was born in the swamp of the Neck, maybe he is half crannogmen.” another retorted.  
“Maybe he's the son of a noble woman.”  
And so on, an assumption after another.  
Daenerys Targaryen had no doubt about the woman who had given birth to Jon Snow’s bastard. And certainly not because the King of the North had told her that, he remained silent as a grave.  
“Lord Eddard has never revealed to anyone who Jon's mother was, in spite of the five children that Lady Catelyn gave him. Jon looks like his father too much, and he will never tell you who is Ned’s mother.” Tyrion had warned her.  
In fact, even though she begged, ordered and shouted, Jon Snow did not give a millimeter.  
“If it was not for Bran, we would never have known of his existence. His mother wanted him free to decide what to do with his life. He was supposed to be free from all this, to be free from this madness. And now thanks to this war, he has to live in this world.” Jon told her, serious and bitter.  
Daenerys asked Varys and Tyrion to gather information on that child, on his birth, on who gave birth to him. No one had any useful information to give. The fact that he was born in the swamp of the Neck had not helped at all.  
Varys and Tyrion had not managed to get anything either from the nanny, except that she was summoned at Greywater Watch just before their departure and that Lord Reed had given her the task of looking after the child during his stay in Dragonstone. She didn’t know that his father was none other than the King of the North. She was not even sure if the baby was born in Greywater Watch, or if he had been brought there later. All information about Eddard Stark was shrouded in more mystery.  
But Daenerys had complied with the facts, and had done well the accounts. The child was one year old. Nine months before his birth, when in all likelihood he was conceived, they had just escaped from Winterfell, and to found refuge in Moat Cailinn.  
Many were dead, and she and Jon had almost died too. Aemon himself escaped only thanks to Ygraine, the half wildling, as Jon’s men called her. She had fought against the wights and rescued Daenery’s son. When she took Aemon in her arms, drenched in Ygraine’s blood, the relief Daenerys felt was indescribable. The baby was sleeping. She remembered nothing of those moments, but the terror she had felt when even Drogon couldn’t find Aemon, despite the incredible bond that connected the child and her dragons.  
In the hectic days that followed the attack of Winterfell, both Daenerys and Jon were engaged day and night in the battles against the Others. Eddard Snow was conceived at the time. The information gathered from Tyrion and Varys among Jon’s men told that Jon had not been seen together with any woman. The thing was nothing new, since he was not the type to waste time in women, especially taking into account that he could get into Daenerys’ bed when he wanted.  
Aside from herself, the important women in Jon Snow’s life could be counted on the fingers of one hand. In the long days at Dragonstone, awaiting news from the north, Daenerys had thought a lot about it.  
Jon's mother couldn’t have been a prostitute or a waitress to be taken in a moment of lust or boredom. Jon's mother, she was sure, was not just any woman. Once, Tyrion told her that many believed that the mother of Ned Stark's bastard had been none other than Ashara Dayne. She was one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms, and she had committed suicide in the days of the rebellion. Some said she killed herself after the death of his beloved brother, Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. It would not be so strange that poor Ashara has killed herself after giving birth to the son of the man who had killed her brother.  
According to those who knew him well, the most important person in Jon’s life was his little sister Arya. That sister, long believed dead, that was back in Winterfell just when Jon had gone to Dragonstone to meet Daenerys. That sister, according to Sansa Stark, had been an inseparable companion of Jon during their childhood. That sister that he had tried several times to meet, but without success. She still remembered the despair in Jon's face when he discovered that his little sister had left just a few days before their arrival.  
The girl, from what Daenerys knew, was a rather strange character. After disappearing for long years as a child, the young Stark had managed to survive in a way that was not clear, and she had returned now as an adult and with a series of impressive skills, according to those who had seen her in action. When they arrived Winterfell after the death of Viserion, they had learned with astonishment that young Arya Stark and her sister Sansa managed to obtain the condemnation and execution of Petyr Baelish. Arya’s moves allowed the elimination of the one who, in the guise of a friend of Stark's family, had been the promoter of their misfortunes.  
However, at the time of their arrival the girl was no longer in Winterfell, because she was gone to a destination that no one knew, except Brandon Stark. In those first months in Winterfell, Daenerys had made the acquaintance of Lady Sansa. Between Jon and her there was a bit 'of affection and so much rivalry that seemed to be rooted in the sad childhood that he had lived under the stern gaze of Catelyn Stark. When there was talk of marriage between her and Jon, Lady Sansa had bluntly expressed her hostility, to make her want to leave to the Eyrie with the Knights of the Vale that were loyal to her.  
Daenerys often wondered what it would be at that time if Arya Stark had been there. By all accounts, she dangled from the lips of his brother, and there was no doubt that she would wholeheartedly support their union, in the same way she had supported all decisions of Jon.  
And then, after Jon’s mother and sisters, Daenerys thought of his bodyguard. Ygraine was a northern woman, no longer young but not yet old, who had considerable fighting skills in close combat. She had been enrolled in the personal guard of King Jon. She was called half wildling because she was much in tune with Tormund Giantsbane, and she preferred to spend her free time between the wildlings. During that time Daenerys had carefully observed the interactions between Jon and Ygraine: they spoke little, but could easily communicate just with one look. Daenerys had never felt anything ambiguous, sexual or emotional, among them, aside from a silent camaraderie and a strong tune.  
However, after hearing of Jon’s bastard son, Daenerys immediately thought about the long nights that Jon had spent at Ygraine’s bedside, after she had saved Aemon. Daenerys had always believed it was because of the debt of gratitude he felt toward Ygraine, debt that she felt in powerful ways too. Instead, he had fucked her. He had also made her pregnant.  
Daenerys was furious for Jon’s treason, but she could not completely hate Ygraine. She owed her too much. The Queen could not but take into account the woman had gone a few months later, disappearing in the swamps, bringing inside of her a bastard child that Jon did not even know existed. If it was not for that devil of Brandon Stark, no one would know of the existence of that child.  
For this, Daenerys unloaded upon Jon all the anger she felt inside. How he dare betray her? Just because Jon Snow and all the Starks filled their mouths of honor and loyalty concepts, precisely because he was so serious and blameless, it was really bad.  
It hurt her, because she was in love with him, and he was so different from others. What had occurred to him when he fucked that ugly tomboy? Why? She was better than her! She was no-one, that woman, compared to her, Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.  
But apparently, the woman had something in her, otherwise Jon Snow would have never been with her.  
And how he had dared to bring at Dragonstone that child, that reminded her every day of his betrayal? That child who, for the gods, had Jon’s eyes, dammit! It was not comforting to think that Aemon looked like Jon more than he resembled Ned. She had hoped that whole thing was not true. She had hoped it was just a cruel joke. But when she saw those eyes, and Jon’s expressions painted on the faces of the little bastard, the truth was burning.  
However, as she could not hate Ygraine, she could not even hate the baby. In fact, if she really had to be perfectly honest, despite some hostility she sought to demonstrate at the benefit of those around her, she liked that child. The more he grew, the more little Ned made her think of her brother Viserys, when he was a sweet boy who loved her.  
For this reason, after holding separate Ned and Aemon ate the beginning, because of the resentment she felt towards Jon, Daenerys allowed more often that the two children spend some time together. And one day, she heard innocent laughter of children echoing in the cold walls of Dragonstone: Aemon had done it, finally. He had made little Ned smile.  



End file.
